


Lone Star

by Lil_Icyhot



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Anal Sex, Detox, Drinking, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Harm, Sex, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Icyhot/pseuds/Lil_Icyhot
Summary: Ever since the "accident", Sal has been on a downward spiral. Travis may know just what he needs.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson, Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. Prologue

Fresh Linen.

Does anybody really enjoy the smell of fresh linen, or is it just like one of those candles that you get from your aunt on some meaningless holiday... like Easter. 

Sal never minded the scent of fresh linen, but he preferred the bitter opposite. Cigarette smoke and whiskey, yeah, that was his personal bullshit Yankee Candle. Right now though, all he could smell was fresh linen, and the slight hint of pine. 

He was on his knees in front of a pulpit. Funny, he thought, he didn't even _know_ what that was until today, but he digressed. The pulpit was tall and made of a finely varnished wood, probably polished often with the pine scent that he smelled. His fists rested on his knees, his knuckles white from the tension, the anticipation. 

Sal was by no means a church-goer, he had no idea what to expect, but he wasn't exactly here to join the congregation. The dark church felt cold and empty, it was beyond operational hours, and there was no chance of company. He unhooked his mask and pulled a black silk scarf from his pocket, setting his mask down and tieing the scarf around his head, so as to cover his eyes. His stomach was in knots, but he stayed still, trying not to lament on what brought him here.

Though blindfolded, he could hear footsteps, and he clenched his fists tighter. The floor was cold beneath him, but thankfully, he hadn't been there long enough for his legs to numb. He felt a hand on his shoulder, firm and unyielding as it moved to rest under his chin and raise his head.

"Sal," a voice began "I'm so glad you decided to join me today."

Sal shivered, holding back a grin. He could hear someone pick up his mask from the floor in front of him and set it on the pulpit. 

"You may speak, if you like." The voice spoke again.

His voice was labored, but Sal let out a small hushed laugh before whispering one thing and one thing only.

"T-Travis..."

There was a click of a tongue, and all at once, Sal's world changed.


	2. Panic Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My phone has no signal  
> It's making my skin crawl  
> The silence is so loud  
> The lights spark and flicker  
> With monsters much bigger  
> Than I can control now" - Panic Room (Au/Ra)

Cocaine and strobe lights, these were the elements of pure bliss. Alpha and omega, they had to be, because they were Sal Fisher's lifeline. Every beat, every strum, was like the inner working of his own body, and he loved it. 

The music was his only love now, maybe it should have always been. Music can't hurt you, not really, not completely. Music makes you feel, and what Sal wanted more than anything was to feel good, so he only danced to the rhythm of bliss. 

Sal's heartbeat throbbed in his chest, the beat of the music around him matched it near perfectly. He could feel the sweat drift down his bare chest as he danced, nodding his head to the music. He could feel hands on him, but he didn't care. Let them touch, he thought, who was he saving himself for?

As his hips swayed, he could feel lips on his neck. "Wanna get outta here?" They whispered. Sal nodded, laughing at the cliche way the stranger had propositioned him. 

A mess of hands and tongues ran along salty skin, it all moved so fast, everything did nowadays. A hand down his pants, and a moment later Sal was being pressed up against the bathroom stall, taking a stranger's cock as the music from outside shifted to something slower. Sal always hated sad songs, they made him too sentimental, made him reflect on the past too much.

The stranger trailed his tongue up Sal's neck, before pulling away slightly. The rhythm of his thrusts were uneven and it made Sal cringe under his mask.   
"Mind if we take the mask off?" He asked "Its kinda throwing me off."

Sal shook his head, "The mask stays on. Believe me, you don't want to see what's underneath."

The man shrugged and just closed his eyes, finishing on Sal's stomach soon after.   
Disappointing as usual, Sal thought, This club never had any good fucks. Nonetheless, he regained his bearings and left the stall, hastily trying to wipe the cum from the edge of his t-shirt. The stranger left the bathroom without so much as a thank you or goodbye, and Sal was left alone. He stared at his reflection briefly, he hated doing that, it made him sick to stare into those lifeless eyes. Granted, one was more lifeless than the other, it being glass and all.

He sighed, tonight was a bust. He'd had a little fun, but all in all not enough to say it was a successful night. His high was wearing off too fast, and that guys dick was too small, and kinda "jabby".   
He figured it was time to go home. He left the club, hailing a taxi just up the street. He was broke as dirt, but Dad was always good for it. Especially if it meant he'd have his son home for a few days.

Thankfully he'd just missed the oncoming downpour, as he sat in the taxi heading back to Nockfell. He watch as the outside world was cleansed by the rain. As far as Sal was concerned, though, it would never be clean. The world was a filthy and unfair place, and he was just fine being a reflection of that.  
Home wasn't any different. There was a thick tension around Sal, it seemed like everyone tiptoed around him, around his problems. He didn't see the problem, everyone else was wrong, not him. He couldn't see why he was the only one grieving, the only one who cared that another person that he loved about was just gone now. His Dad cried when his Mom died, why not his stepson? Lisa hid her tears, she only cried alone, and not nearly as often as Sal. Nobody cried as much as Sal.

It was nobody's fault, they told him, but he blamed himself anyway...

Sal blamed himself for a lot of things, his Mother's death, his Father's former drinking problem, but nothing so much as the death of his best friend.

Their parents tried to console him, but he was too long gone by the time they realized he had a problem. Larry was gone, and Sal was shortly behind.

It started with his smoking habits, they increased by a pack a day, then came the drinking. He was wasted by supper almost every day, in and out of the town jail. Rehab wasn't an option, wasn't even on the table, Sal refused to even consider getting help. 

He would see Larry in his dreams, every night. In his drunken stupor, he would see hallucinations of his stepbrother, sometimes he would even walk through town late at night and end up at Larry's grave, falling asleep at it's base until the cops took him home.

When he was sober, which he tried on his own every few months, he would visit Todd and Ash. He didn't know why they still put up with him, but they were his little piece of the past, the only piece he didn't want to forget. Todd would try to talk logic, help him through the stages of grief, but Sal couldn't see himself through the darkness of the first few. He couldn't even bring himself to talk about Larry, let alone what had happened. Ash would offer to stay with him through withdrawal, help him get through it, but he could never bring himself to put her through that. They would urge him to stay clean, try to help, as friends do, but it was no use. Sal was lost to the life of continuous pain and pleasure.

He was sick, but life was sick, so he figured it was just as well.

When the taxi pulled up to the apartment building, Sal was pulled from his thoughts. He told the driver to wait while he called his Dad, nonchalant to the fact that he was a blatant freeloader. 

"Dad-" He started upon hearing his groggy Father on the other line, "I'm home."

That was all it took, his Father would come outside begrudgingly, pay the taxi driver, and welcome his son home. It was so easy, he made it so easy. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for his son, or maybe he blamed himself for the path he had chosen as of late, but either way, Sal took advantage of his Father's innate need to over compensate for the lose of his Mother. 

Recently, Sal had taken to traveling into the city, disappearing for days at a time and partying with strangers. Sal couldn't bear to let his friends see him when he was down, so running to the city, drowning in the darkness away from home was favorable. He'd taken up harder substances too, snorting and huffing was all he could do to get the nightmares to stop.

It wasn't long before he found himself doing things he'd never imagined, for money, for drugs, for company in the darkness.

Tonight was no different, no night was different... 

Ever since the accident.


	3. Typical Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm afraid of everything staying the same or worsening  
> So what's the point of finding calm, when calm to me is unsettling?  
> Settle down, little kid, your bones are shaking in your skin  
> Go and try and take a breath, though nothing more, nothing less" - Typical Story (Hobo Johnson)

Sal wasn't a fan of public spaces, never was. He used to have Larry as a buffer, he was the social butterfly, but not anymore. 

Tonight he was downtown, the city was alight in neon and sparkling lights, Larry would love it, he thought. Just as quick as the notion crossed his mind, Sal drowned it with a shot. The rooftop party he'd been invited to was in full swing, people grinding on each other, jumping in the pool, and jamming out to the loud music blasting through the many speakers. The music wasn't particularly his taste, but he wasn't here to dance, he was here to get wasted and bang something, anything. 

He was wearing his Tuesday best, which is to say, the same loose band tank and red skinny jeans he wore the night before. His tattoos looked harsh on his pale skin, and his mask was only buckled at the top to allow access to his mouth when he needed to tilt it up. Usually he felt like a freak with his prosthetic, but the city was full of eccentric people, and he fit in as much as the next guy. He even had friends here, if you could call drug addicted acquaintances friends. They were only friends with mutual needs after all, only hung out when they were wasted or high, drunk buddies if you will. Sal didn't even know half of their names, but they were fun to go out with, and that's really all he needed. 

Chug was a friend from Nockfell that had moved to the city after high school, it was serendipitous that he and Sal found each other again, now they did blow together. Cj was in college, so he only partied with them on weekends, but if you needed pot, he was your guy. Philip was the ladies man, and the ultimate shotgun king. He could down a six pack in under ten minutes if you let him. Robert and Sierra were always together and could get you in anywhere with their connections. There were a few others in their group, but they came and went too often for Sal to care.

He finished his blunt and put it out on his wrist, grinning as his friends just laughed at his self harm. He tended to do that from time to time, which was why he was covered in cigarette burns. The others just thought he was being hardcore, and didn't question their masked friend. Sal wouldn't care if they did, he'd just brush them off like he did to his real friends.

"Want another spliff, Bud?" Cj pat his wheelchair bag full of weed, grinning at the other. 

"Nah, I'm good." He shrugged "Think I'll take a lap." 

What Sal really wanted tonight was to get laid. Across the roof was a tall girl with silver hair, she was a maybe, or the blonde guy she just threw her drink on perhaps? He was lean but well-built, with sandy blonde hair tossed in a messy style. Tall and wearing tight black jeans and a black button down with the top few buttons undone, He was the perfect specimen for Sal tonight. Sal liked a guy with style, but to be honest, it didn't really matter what he was wearing, just that he was rough; And by the looks of those bruised hands, he was a rough one.

He swigged another shot in passing and walked over to the blonde, he was high as a kite but still in control of his bearings for the most part. 

He didn't seem to notice when Sal was in front of him, but he took this chance to look his prey up and down. A shiny silver cross glinted against his stubbled chest, "church boy, huh?" Sal said aloud when he was just a step in front of the man.

"You could say that," He said, dabbing the alcohol from his shirt. "What's with the mask?"

"None of your business." Sal laughed, "What was that about?" He jabbed his thumb in the direction the girl had left.

"I overstepped some sort of boundary, I'm guessing." The man tossed his napkin in a waste basket behind the bar he was leaning against.

Sal took this chance to lean in close and say in a low voice "Uh-huh, well I wouldn't mind if you overstepped with me..." 

The blonde man looked him over, "Don't I know you?" 

"Probably not, I'm not from around here." He responded, bored already and letting his eyes drift over the rest of the party.

"Nockfell, right?"

"Y-yeah" Sal wavered, snapping back and trying to pull any kind of recognition of the man in front of him. He didn't look like a cop, or one of his neighbors in the apartment complex, so how did he know where he was from?! 

He grinned at the masked male, "Sally Face-"

Sal stepped back a moment, hearing his childhood nickname come from the smooth lips of the stranger.

"Yeah, Sally Face, Sal Fisher, right?" The blonde man looked more friendly now, looking the other in the eyes with a smile.

Sal took his hand and shook is hesitantly. "Yes, but how-?"

"Travis, Travis Phelps."

Travis...Travis? Travis Phelps, his high school school bully?! 

This was not Sal's night. 

"TRAVIS?!" Sal gasped, not knowing if the two would be on good terms or not, he having been the subject of ridicule for the other for the majority of their high school career. "Oh, uh- How h-have you been?"

Travis shook the other's hand firmly, "I've been good, I've been good-" He went on to tell Sal what he'd been up to recently.

"Huh, that's nice." Sal didn't really care how Travis was doing, he just wanted out of this conversation. Sal did want to know why it was Travis of all people He'd run into here.

"What brings you to the city? I thought you moved."

"I did, went and lived with my Mom for awhile after the divorce, ended up going to college out west..." He just kept talking, Sal rolled his eyes and took another shot from a passing tray, downing it fast. "Anyway, I moved back to Nockfell to help out at my Father's Ministry."

"Wow, how nice. Look I gotta go, I-"

"Well hey, wait a minute." Travis grabbed the crook of Sal's arm, pulling him closer by accident. He smelled like a good shower, all clean and fresh, pure, Sal thought. Sal's hands ended up bracing against Travis's chest, feeling his taunt muscle beneath. It kind of turned Sal on. 

"Ah, um..." Sal stumbled,

Travis grinned, "I believe you were just hitting on me earlier..." 

Sal cringed, he had been checking Travis out before he introduced himself. This had to be a different Travis though, this suave talking asshole was nothing like the school bully he'd known.

Then again, maybe they'd both changed.

"Yeah, before I realized who you were!" Sal bit back, "Let me go, pretty boy. I'm not your plaything anymore."

"Plaything, ah now that's a loaded declaration, Sally Face."

"Don't call me that! No one calls me that anymore."

"I Do." Travis winked and let the other go, sipping his near-abandoned drink. Sal grimaced, mentally squaring up to punch him in his smug face.

"See you around, Sally."


	4. Saint Bernard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hung pictures of patron saints up on my wall  
> To remind me that i am a fool—  
> Tell me where i came from, what i will always be:  
> Just a spoiled little kid who went to catholic school" - Saint Bernard (Lincoln)

Travis Phelps. 

Sal laid awake on a couch in one of his booze buddies' apartments, it stank like cats and bong residue. He didn't really want to be here, but he didn't really want to go home either. His Dad and Lisa had been riding his ass to do something with his life since he had turned twenty-three earlier this year, and it was only getting worse.

He didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, he barely knew what he wanted to do tomorrow. 

Travis fucking Phelps.

Who did he think he was? Sal hadn't been afraid of him in high school, and he wasn't afraid now. Granted, it's not like he tried to do anything at the party...B-but he insinuated! Sal's blood boiled at the thought of Travis teasing him at the party, and even more of him doing things to him. Nasty things, things Sal didn't let anybody do since- Well, for a long time.

As if Travis Phelps, the Jesus freak of Nockfell high, would ever fuck around with Sal Fisher. Fat chance, he thought, however, he did seem down at the party... Like maybe he was interested when Sal hit on him? No, there was no way.

Sal rolled over, determined to get some sleep. Maybe he should go home, he always slept better in his own bed, Gizmo cuddling at his feet. With a huff, Sal got up and snuck out of the apartment, not really caring if he woke anyone.

He wasn't going to go home, but he didn't want to stay here.

In the morning, Sal awoke on a park bench, the sunlight of the early morning stinging his eye and aggravating his hangover. 

"Coffee." A voice said very matter of factly. A tall form stepped in front of the light, making it halo around his golden head of hair.

"Who- T-Travis?" Sal realized, sitting up and holding his head. "What the fuck man?! Were you following me?"

Travis laughed, it was deep and dark like an npc in a video game. "First of all, how could I have followed you? Second, No, I just noticed you while I was out for a walk."

"How'd you know it was me?" It was a stupid question, he knew it right after the words left his mouth. Travis knew it too, which is probably why he didn't answer. Sal took the coffee, lifting his mask to sip at it hesitantly. How did Travis know he like his coffee mostly sugar and cream?! Was this jerk stalking him?

"So, mind telling me what you're doing out here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Sal snapped back.

The tall male sighed and sat next to the other on the bench. "You know, you don't have to be so hostile." He looked at Sal before running his fingers though his blonde locks. "I guess I get it though. I never apologized fully for being a complete dick to you and your friends." 

"It doesn't matter anymore." Sal said, nursing his coffee and staring anywhere but up at the other man. There had been that one time, when they were younger Sal had comforted Travis, crying and alone on the bathroom floor. He had told him then that he didn't really hate him or his friends, but the bullying wasn't the grudge Sal held over his head now. Perhaps it was the other's inability to speak his true feelings when they were young, perhaps it was jealousy upon seeing how well he was doing now. Either way, He was the last person Sal wanted to talk to.

"Then why are you being so-"

"Because maybe I don't like your fucking face," Sal cut him off.

"Well that's a stupid reason to be a jerk to somebody. Geez, you kiss your Mother with that mouth?" Travis sipped his coffee, leaning back on the bench. 

The shorter male snapped at him once more, "My mom's dead, dipshit."

Travis was caught off guard by this, he didn't know about Sal's home situation. Even when they had been in school together, he never thought to ask or pry. It wasn't his place to, after all, he was a cliche bully back then. Now, well, now he had nothing to hide, he was in control of his life, but by the looks of it, Sal wasn't.

"Oh," He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "Well any-who, you didn't answer my first question."

Sal rolled his eyes, popping a pack of cigarettes out and lighting one. "Yeah, what's that?"

"Why are you out here?"

"Got no place else to go." He shrugged nonchalantly, lifting his mask to smoke. Travis caught a glimpse of tattered skin beneath and licked his lips almost nervously.

"That's gotta be bull, you can't go stay with one of your friends? What about Larry?" 

Sal shot up, throwing the half empty coffee on the sidewalk. "Why don't you mind your own business?!" He yelled, warranting stares from the other early park-goers.

Travis's brow furrowed as he lifted his hands up in defense, "Look man, I was just asking."

The blue haired male sighed, calming down a bit and sitting back down. He took a deep breath and lent over, resting his head in his hands and letting the cigarette ash fall on his arm.

"Larry's Dead."


	5. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I witness your madness  
> You shed light on my sins  
> And if we share in this sadness  
> Then where have you been?" _ Run (Joji)

That morning should live on in infamy. The morning that Travis Phelps, a good christian man, invited Sal Fisher back to his hotel room.

Okay so it's not like they did anything promiscuous, though Sal had blatantly offered to in return for a good shower and a snack. Travis had brushed him off though, letting him use his facilities free of charge. Sal wished Travis had been this nice when they were in school, but he figured that if he was ever going to be kind, now is when Sal needed it the most.

It felt nice to get clean, Sal couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way, but here in this Marriot bathroom, he could breathe. 

There was a knock at the door, making him flinch slightly, as he called out "Come in!"

At first, there was a moment of silence, before he heard the door open and felt a cool breeze against his back. Travis tried not to look through the gap in the shower curtain, but upon catching a glimpse, he couldn't help himself. 

As he gazed upon the lithe male running a lathered sponge along his back, he felt a confusing mass of emotions, all amassing into vague attraction and pity. He watched as the water ran down the length of Sal's back, over bruises and scars of varying shapes and sizes. There was nearly no expanse of him not covered in injury. His arms and legs were scarred in a way that made Travis shudder, and his neck and back were covered in angry purple marks that he could only imagine the origin of. 

"So are you just going to stare at me like that?" Sal said pointedly, keeping his back to the other man.

Travis closed the gap in the curtain almost immediately, "You didn't seem to mind." 

"Yeah, well, it's not my first time..." He switched the shower off, "...Being watched, I mean."

Travis sighed, a habit that was starting to come about a lot with the other male, "What happened to you, Sal?" he began "You weren't always this- this resigned."

"How would you know?" He bit back, grabbing a towel and covering himself, all the while with his back to the other.

"I guess I wouldn't." 

"No," The blue haired male didn't skip a beat in buckling his mask and turning to face the other "-You wouldn't." He stepped out of the bathroom angrily, shuffling to find his dirty clothes so he could get out of here.

"I found the coke, Sal." Travis followed him into the other room, pulling a small bag from his pocket. He turned to face him, furious at the implication and charging at the other man.

"You went through my shit?!" He yelled, swiping for the bag that was pulled from his reach in just seconds. 

"You're not getting it back. What even made you turn to these things?!"

"It's none of your business! My life is none of your business! How many times to I have to say it?!"

Travis placed a hand on Sal's mask, pushing him away slightly. "It's my business now, Sally Face."

"No its not," He stood, regaining his stance of objection. "And I told you not to call me that!"

"Hm." Travis just stared down at the other man, before turning on his heel and exiting into the bathroom, shutting the door. Sal heard a flush and it was as if his whole world was crumbling down upon him. His drugs, no way, no way Travis would have flushed them! He was bluffing! He had to be.

The bathroom door opened to a menacingly grinning Travis, hands up and empty of Sal's cocaine. Sal rushed to the toilet in disbelief, but it was done, his coke was gone. He turned his furious gaze slowly towards the other man, "You absolute fuckwad! Do you know what I had to do to get that much?!"

"I can imagine...But now it's gone. No drugs, no problem."

Sal growled, launching himself onto Travis without a second thought. The taller male fell back onto the floor with a thud, as Sal tried his hardest to make a punch land square in his face. However, he was too weak from hunger and withdraw was setting in too fast from him to gain the upper hand. Travis attempted to restrain him, seeing the condition he was in, but couldn't for the life of him get a hold on those spider-like limbs. He resigned to waiting until Sal tired himself out, which didn't take long at all. 

As his limbs slowed, his punches became more futile. He let out one last screech, though it only fell soft on the other's ears. Travis took this as an opportunity to pick him up and lay him gently on the bed. Sal shivered at his soft touch, but only muttered a "Fuck you" before passing out against him on the bed.

Travis watched his eyes flutter every so often, refusing to leave his... Well, he really didn't know what they were, but he refused to leave him nonetheless. He had so many questions, so many inquiries into what Sal had been doing all these years. Why was he doing drugs like they were candy? What happened to Larry?

No was not the time though, for now he would let him sleep off the hysteria, and later, later he would figure things out. He had to help his former crush, maybe because he still had feelings for the blue haired male, maybe because he felt guilty...

...Or maybe because it was just the right thing to do.


	6. Désolé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm a long way from land,  
> Désolé,  
> I don't know what to do,  
> Désolé, désolé,  
> Try to hold on to you." -Désolé (Gorillaz)

There wasn't time.

There wasn't time to react or scream or call for help. There just wasn't enough time.

The party had been wild, and the two of them had soaked it up, unchained and uninhibited by the world around them. Larry and Sal moved to the music, dancing like life depended on it. Smoke arose from the crowd, a haze of cigarettes and pot, and the lights shined through, it was like a dream.

It was a dream to Sal, and he never wanted it to end.

There were bits and pieces missing though, it wasn't the same, because before he knew it, Sal was in Larry's car. 

"Lar, slow down!" He cried upon realization, "Stop the car!"

Larry laughed "What're you so scared of, Blue?" He turned his head back to the road and before he could say any more, there was a flash.

Sal awoke, screaming, the sounds of rain and scraping metal still in his ears. 

He was alone, a realization he took solace in until he noticed the door to the bathroom swinging open. Travis ran out, dripping wet, presumably from a shower.

"What happened?" he gasped "What's wrong?"

Sal pulled the pillow he had been cuddling closer, "N-nothing. It's stupid, just a nightmare."

The soggy male's gaze softened as he walked closer to the other, "Sal-"

"No!" He yelled, "Don't come any closer."

Travis persisted, "Sal, I"m not going to hurt you..."

Sal's gaze drifted across the entirety of the other's body. Not a mark in sight, he thought, nothing but pure lean muscle and a few religious tattoos here and there. He didn't know if it turned him on, or made him sick...Maybe both. The taunt skin of his chest flexed as he moved closer to sit on the bed, his muscular arm reached out, extending a bruised hand to the smaller male. 

The roar of thunder outside, accompanied by a vast flash of lightning, drove him into the other's arms. Ashamed but frightened, he drew Travis closer, smelling his freshly showered skin against him. It smelled so fresh and sweet, like a woman's hair, like Ash. Sal could feel a tear fall from under his prosthetic, he should be with Ash and Todd right now, he should be clean and healthy and with his real friends. Why wasn't he? Instead he was cuddling up to Travis of all people.

He lent back to pull away before another strike from outside sent him back into those strong arms. The larger male was silent, watching and keeping a passive position for the other to huddle into. 

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this." Sal bit his damaged lip behind his mask,

"Who would I tell?"

"You're right," He chuckled "Daddy would probably disown you, huh?"

He waited for a punch, or a slap, wincing prematurely, But it never came. 

"I don't speak to my father about such things." Travis looked stern now, and it only egged Sal on more.

"What, that you're a queer?" He lashed back, but Travis wasn't taking the bate. He even grinned slightly, looking down at the other. 

"That's a nasty mouth you've got, but no, I don't talk to my father about those things." He shifted to move away from Sal, "I like to keep my private life separate, by the looks of things, you like to do the same."

There was a moment of silence as Sal wiped the proverbial egg off of his face. He just couldn't get a read on this new Travis, was he being kind, or did he want something like everybody else? 

"I don't get you." Sal broke through the silence, "What do you want from me?"

Travis tilted his head in confusion, "I want to help."

"Why?"

"Because I like you, Sal...And I know this isn't you."

"You don't know, people change, I changed."

"No, people don't change, they just become more like themselves." He placed a hand on the other's shoulder. "This- This is just a phase that you need to break through."

Sal gazed up into hazel eyes, wavering as he melted against the touch. "Travis, I'm no good, not anymore."

They drifted closer, the latter whispering a resounding "You don't have to be good," against plastic lips. "You just have to be you."

Sal could feel his heart pounding in his ears, this time though, it wasn't because of the drugs or some loud music in a cheap club. Before he knew it he was unbuckling his prosthetic and smashing his lips into the other male's.

He didn't care anymore. If Travis wanted to fix him or take advantage of him, he didn't care. He just wanted to feel something, that's all he's been chasing, that feeling.

Sal's clothed were off within seconds and he was being lowered gently onto the hotel bed by an already naked Travis Phelps. Who would've guessed? 

Their lips parted, tangling their tongues in a tender embrace. it was warm and oh so inviting, Travis couldn't help but run his hands up and down the other's beaten body, surprised when he doesn't wince at any particularly dark bruises. A hand drifts down between Sal's legs. His hips jerk up to meet Travis's hand, gasping at the sudden jolt of pleasure. His head falls back against the pillows, whispering "More-" against his lips. 

It didn't take long at all for Travis to retrieve the lube from his duffel-bag and position himself between Sal's spread legs. He let some lube fall onto his fingers, prodding the other gently before plunging his fingers deep into his awaiting backside. He lent down to kiss trails down the smaller male's neck and chest, lubing himself up as he went. 

"Just do it already!" Sal called out, grappled with pleasure. That was all Travis needed to thrust his cock into the other male, the tight cavity hugging him like he was meant to be there all his life. 

It was bliss.

Every thrust, every gentle graze of fingertips on damaged ribs, every tense and breath on moistened skin, was a reminder. A testament to fleeting intimacy, to the feeling of wholeness, and Sal wanted all of it. He writhed with a pleasure he scarcely remembered ever feeling truly. He had to have felt this before, he mused, there was no way this could be any different, but he supposed maybe it was.

At the precipice, Sal found himself calling out Travis's name, without shame tethered to it as he had expected.

For a moment, everything was pure and beautiful, but theses things never do last. Sal knew that wholeheartedly, and had accepted it long ago. However, tonight, he just wanted to feel beautiful, and Travis made him fell that. 

He made him feel.


	7. Serotonin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where are you gone now,  
> My serotonin,  
> I'm feeling alone and the world is so cold,  
> It's hard to fight this,  
> Without oxytocin,  
> Love is a notion I can't control." - Serotonin (Call Me Karizma)

  
One week later

Sal stood in his room at home, staring into the full length mirror on his closet door. He was shirtless as he observed his body, critically pointing out the places he'd grown to dislike. 

He stared at his ribs, prodding at the prominent bumps of flesh. He turned, and sure enough, he could see his spine a little bit too. His bones jutted out at various points on his body. His malnourished form made him recoil, it made his scarce tattoos look thin and papery, like he'd just drawn them on himself. 

He needed something to help him calm down, a bump of coke, a drink, maybe his dad had something in the medicine cabinet? Sal didn't care what. He peeked out of his room to make sure no one else was around, walking into the bathroom and hastily opening the small cabinet above the sink. Benzos, he needed benzos for sure, just a few to chill out. He rifled through the various expired medications before finding Lisa's old prescription for Xanax. Not really expired, he thought, after all, she just got them like a year ago when she hurt her knee, right before-

"So you're doing this now?" Sal turned to see Henry suddenly in the doorway, arms crossed and authoritative. He looked at the pills in his son's hand, shaking his head. "Sal-"

"What? What, Dad?" He grit his teeth, "Are you gonna fucking stop me?"

"Sal, you don't need those!"

"Yes, I do." He truly believed in that statement. He needed the drugs, they were the only things that helped, that stopped the nightmares and numbed the pain. As cliche as that sounded.

Henry reached out to take the pills from his son, only to be swatted away. "Fuck off!"

"HEY! That's no way to talk to your Father, young man!" Lisa walked out of their room, standing behind Henry.

"Great!" Sal yelled "The gangs all here!" He pushed past them both and stepped out of the bathroom. "Oh wait, no, it's not. You guys wanna guess who seems to be absent?"

The two elder adults followed him towards his room, "Sal! You come back here!" Lisa called after him, tears in her eyes. It was like they were in two different realms, one where Larry was dead, and one where he didn't seem to exist entirely. When he made it to his room, he slammed the door, locking it behind him.

Sal groaned, sinking to his knees. He huddled into a ball on the floor, shaking from being so cruel to those he loved. Dejected, he slipped a Xanax onto his tongue, swallowing the expired pill fast. He wanted to forget today, maybe everyday, everyday after that specific day.

He wanted to un-live everyday since Larry died. Maybe he wanted to die himself, it'd sure make things a whole lot easier, wouldn't it? Logically, he mused, it just made sense. His Dad could continue to wallow in his failure as a father, having the ultimate pity line. That confirmation that he fucked up, because he'll most likely blame himself. Lisa could finally turn Sal's room into a meditation studio, like she's been wanting to. Ash and Todd, well, they wouldn't have to keep trying to put him back together. What a relief, right? No more Sal to babysit, no more waste of space, no more.

His personal logic got the better of him and he began to cry heavily, wiping his eyes with his bare arms futilely. Grabbing a shirt off of the floor he dabbed his eyes and returned to his fetal position. 

Before long, Sal had drifted off to sleep, dreaming of days before. He remembered being a kid, when he and his Dad first moved to Addison Apartments. High school, Henry and Lisa's wedding, Larry...

_He remembered how close they were after they met, straight away, like they were always meant to be...To be whatever they were._

_"You gotta move on, Sally." Larry said, his voice nearly a whisper._

_Sal was on his knees in the misty back yard, "No, but- No! I wanna stay here, with you, Lar.". He grabbed Larry's fading hand, pressing it to his bare face._

_Larry knelt down, taking his former brother's head in his hands "You can't, Bro, you got other junk to do out there."_

_He stood, walking off into the mist and leaving Sal alone._

Sal awoke with a start in a puddle of his own drool, or tears, who knows?

He wiped his face with his hands and stood up from the floor. Pulling a shirt over his head, he disregarded the mirror, choosing instead to grab his backpack and leave the apartment. 

It wasn't long before he made it to his destination, 

Phelps Ministry.

Inside, there was a late service being held, so Sal quickly and quietly snuck inside and sat in a pew near to the back of the church. Sitting up in a chair on the raised platform was none other than Travis, dressed in a smart looking suit. Sal grinned, reminded of their sacred tryst a week prior as they locked eyes. Travis smiled briefly at the masked man, before returning to his stoic gaze. 

Up on the podium, Pastor Phelps was giving a sermon on personal responsibility. 

Sal had never really gotten religion. To him, it was an excuse to blame and harass others over stupid shit. His dad went to church though, part of some alcoholics anonymous thing, but Sal never went with. Truth be told, this was the first time he'd been back in a church since Larry's funeral. 

Why exactly was he here? Even he didn't know, but he knew he wanted to see Travis, he wanted to see the only person that didn't look at him with pity in their eyes.

As the sermon ended and the Pastor said his goodbyes to the congregation, Sal stood and walked towards the front of the church. Travis's father shook hands with what Sal assumed were affluent members of the church, he overheard as they complimented him on his words. 

Travis was nowhere to be seen. 

Upon realization, Sal sat down in a nearby pew awkwardly. The Pastor shed a glance over him, probably slightly put off by the boy in a prosthetic mask sitting in a near empty church. 

"You there, boy. A bit early for Halloween, don't you think?" The Pastor laughed good naturedly, walking the two elderly women he was chatting with out. Sal muttered a sarcastic comment under his breath. He had no respect for the other man, knowing what he knew about Travis's upbringing.

"Psst" Travis hissed from the wings, motioning Sal over. He followed suit, tucking away behind one of the parish's many support pillars.

"What are you doing here?" Was the first question to leave his lips,

Sal lent in close, supporting himself against the other man. "I wanted to see you, that a crime?"

"Now is not the time for sass, I told you how I like things."

"Yeah yeah, business and family separate from pleasure." He nodded his head back and forth mockingly.

"Exactly, so why?"

Sal pouted behind his mask, his eyes looking dejected. Travis bristled, sighing and placing a hand under the other's chin, pushing the prosthetic up and revealing chapped damaged lips. He lent down and kissed the shorter man, hard. He prodded at the other's lips with his tongue, prying them open and entangling it with his. They held each other for a moment, connected at the lips, before the sound of the parish doors startled them apart.

"Stay here." Travis commanded, tucking the other firmly into the shadows. Sal could do nothing but nod, watching from the dark.

"Travis my boy," His father boasted, patting his son on the back firmly. "So glad to have to back with us."

From then, the voices grew fainter as the two men walked into the back of the church. Sal simply waited. He didn't need to wonder why Travis had left, the commanding demeanor of his father was enough to paint a picture. Sometimes Sal just got these feelings about people, like an aura or something, and that man was bad news. 

When Travis finally returned, they locked lips once more. Gods did Sal need this, after the day he'd had, what he really wanted was that release. He had a feeling that Travis felt the same, so when he led the other into a backroom, he went along happily.

After all, maybe Travis himself was what Sal needed. Maybe he was what he'd needed all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the love and support! This chapter is very important to me, as it reflects thoughts and emotions I often deal with irl. Please continue to give feedback and I promise I'll keep trying my very best to bring you all a good read!


	8. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've tasted blood and it is sweet.  
> I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet.  
> I've trusted lies and trusted men,  
> Broke down and put myself back together again." - Nightmare (Halsey)

Blood and metal taste the same, and to some, its a tantalizing dream. 

That's one of the things Travis taught Sal. Something else he taught him, silk can still hurt like hell.

Sal groaned, he'd been tied up for a while now, yet the silk ropes still felt as tight as when they'd started. They grazed his package and held his arms behind his back, forcing him to be on his knees. He had thrashed and writhed, but they still wouldn't give. This wasn't fun anymore.

He was alone in a back room in the church, restrained and jonesing for something recreational. Travis had stepped out to say his goodbyes to his father and make up some excuse for being here so late. This was how it went from now on, after a few days of seeing each other, they'd devised a plan.

Sal's breakdown the day he'd first visited the church was the last one he ever wanted to have, and so he enlisted the help of his former high school bully turned lover to get himself clean. He wasn't sure at first, nor were Ash and Todd when he explained it, but he'd made the decision anyway. He had to get help and this was the best he could think to do.

Of course, he couldn't tell them the whole story, just that he was seeking refuge from the church to help him through. He couldn't let things with Travis slip just yet, especially in connection to his detox. Things were moving fast with Travis, sure, but diamonds are only made when put under extreme pressure. His friends would go nuts if they knew what they got up to.

He was a month in on detox, and the withdraw was coming on in waves.

The seizures were the worst part, the anxiety and depression were bad,yeah, but nothing he wasn't always dealing with before. He survived through childhood, and he was positive he could do this too. He just needed a little help.

Every night he dreamt of Larry, sometimes of his Mom, but they always turned into nightmares by the end. He awoke in a cold sweat almost every time, screaming and sobbing. 

In the evening, he would go to church.

He would sit quietly if there was a service, and wait until the place was empty. Then, Travis would usher him into the back. Only then could he gain what he sorely missed. That release, that utter euphoria he craved, no longer from the drugs, but from Travis himself.

Under the watchful eyes of the wall-mounted crucifix, they would make love. Sal could finally call it that, because he did indeed feel it, though Travis would argue it was just the withdraw talking. He didn't care, he knew how he felt.

During these sessions of love-making, Travis would often tie Sal in traditional shibari ropes, the soft silk grazing his skin and making him shudder. He would be stern, more so than usual, as he worked on the other male. Quietly, he'd tie three ropes along Sal's arms; at the wrist, the upper arm and the elbow. Sal could could no longer bend his elbows, though he could still raise them slightly behind him and rest his them against his back. He was surprised, the first time, to find that it wasn't uncomfortable, but he could see that it easily could, if left that way for too long.

Like now for instance.

The knot work ran intricately down his chest, trailing up and over his shoulders. The ropes that ran across his shoulders, chafed slightly along his collarbone and he could feel the ropes that ran horizontally around his chest rub gently against his nipples. Vertical ropes held it all together, two on his front and two down his back, and with every breath he could feel them.

His prosthetic sat on the bedside table. It almost made him uncomfortable to have it off, but he trusted Travis.

Sal could hear the tap of freshly polished shoes walking towards the room, knowing it could only be Travis, finally returning. 

There was a certain amount of trust involved in this type of play, and in only a short time, they'd acclimated to it. Sal was filled with anticipation again, hearing the door open behind him. 

"Sorry about that, old man forgot his glasses again." Travis ran a hand over Sal's shoulder, gripping it tenderly. "So, where were we?"

Sal smirked, "You were just about to fuck me."

Travis knelt down in front of him, cupping his chin. "Was I?"

Sal’s eyes closed inadvertently, and he suddenly felt one of the ropes being let out slowly. A panicked sound escaped his lips without thinking and the rope stilled, Travis returning in front of him, hand in his hair, stroking delicately.

“I want it,” he whispers.

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yes." Sal hisses as the other starts a slow slide of his palm against his unclothed cock.

Sal starts to squirm. Without being able to brace against anything, it’s hard for him to thrust up into Travis’s grip, but he tries anyway. Travis can see the flex of muscles on his body and the tremor of exertion as the head of Sal’s cock drags against his palm and makes his skin slick. He really was doing better these days, fitter, more alive.

He lets Sal wear himself out, and then jerks him off some more with a firmer grip. Then, when Sal gets some more bite to his actions, Travis waits until he riles up again.

"Got tired of waiting for me, huh?" Travis kissed a trail down Sal's neck,

"Duh," Sal growled "You took forever, you jerk."

Travis just laughed in a deep, low, tone, picking Sal up bridal-style and laying him on the twin sized chamber bed. He lent over to the bedside table, reaching into the drawer and grabbing a small bottle of lube.

He dropped the lube and a condom on the bed, kneeling and pulling on the ropes to yank Sal up under him, kissing him hard. The ropes rubbed in all sorts of places that Sal didn't even know he cold feel pleasure. He loved it when Travis got rough.

Travis picks up the lube and slicks up two fingers, because he only needed two. This wasn't about force, it was about intricate and refined delicacy. It was about stirring up the nerves of Sal's body and making them snap, stretching and ebbing away at any sense of conviction.

He pressed into Sal and he hissed, bearing down and trying to adjust. Travis gave him a moment to settle, before he then crooked his fingers up and back and forward and up until he finds Sal's prostate. Sal made a choked, almost squeaking, noise, and then cried out a "T-Travis!"

"Everything okay, Sally Face?" The nickname, now endearing, fell on deft ears as Sal whimpered with pleasure, nodding.

Travis took that confirmation as a sign to move forward. He unbuckled his pants, removing his thick swelling cock, and rolling the condom onto the large member. He reached for the ropes, pulling Sal closer and lining himself up, snapping his hips forward and delving halfway into Sal in one fluid motion.

Sal nearly screamed again. His back arched sharply and his arms struggled against the ropes, attempting to hold onto the other male. His legs clench around Travis tightly. Travis buried himself deeper in Sal and pulled him to his chest. He could feel every single one of Sal's muscles shaking in desperation.

He cradled Sal to his chest, driving into him hard. Sal buried his face in Travis’s neck and sinks his teeth into his shoulder. Travis let out a groan and thrust harder into his lover, reaching between them to stroke at the smaller male's cock.

Sal's whole body clamped down on him, so much that Travis could barely move, but he persisted. His thighs shook with delight, before his whole body convulsed again. Sal spills in Travis’s hand, moving his hips even still after he'd come. Travis soon came as well, filling the other to another completion.

They both collapsed onto the bed, breathing uneven and bodies slicked with sweat.

"How are you feeling?" Travis panted out, picking himself up and starting to untie the other.

"Hmm, Nice. Just really nice."

"Any cravings?"

"No, not right now." Once the ropes were off, Sal sat up on his elbows.

Travis sat on the edge of the bed, zipping up his pants. "Good."

"Don't act like the sex helps, Travis. It's just a replacement."

"I know," He said, running his clean hand through his hair.

That was all the sex was, just a replacement for the thrills that the drugs supplied Sal. That's why it had to be rough, had to be addictive and painful, to help him feel something. Travis knew how Sal felt, he said he was falling in love with him, but He couldn't believe it, not until Sal got proper help.

He wouldn't like it, but Travis had made plans, and spoken the Sal's support system behind his back. He'd sought out his friends and his Father. Todd and Ashley were hesitant to believe Travis wanted to help, but they'd come around once he explained his reasoning.

Sal needed help, help that was beyond any of their realms of expertise.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Sal crawled towards him on the bed.

Travis grinned, he wanted to see Sal like this more, coherent and looking at him with such fondness. "It's nothing, just thinking about our trip tomorrow."

Sal smiled, "I'm excited, I've never been to a cabin before." He reached for his vape on the bedside table, taking a puff of the cbd oil he now used instead of nicotine. "Do you think it's warm enough to swim in the lake?"

"Sure I do, Sally Face," Travis kissed the top of the other's head gently. "Sure I do."


End file.
